


Watchers

by twelvepercentofaplan



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Are you satisfied with your Groot?, Baymax is the bae, Crossover, Flashbacks, Gen, Groot just sorta sits in the background of this, I Am Groot, Music, Robots, Rocket and Hiro are friends by the end of this, That's a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvepercentofaplan/pseuds/twelvepercentofaplan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all Starch-ahem, Stark's- fault. Quill too, but Stark built the cause of all this trouble. Idiot.</p><p>Precautions are stupid, and this week turns out to be more or less a getaway on the worst planet in the galaxy. And even better, Rocket's stuck with some kid and a puffy balloon with issues understanding personal space.</p><p>Or: ten interweaving drabbles just barely outlining the events of a week of absolutely nothing but chaos, chip eating, building, and awkward hugging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watchers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [divisionten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/divisionten/gifts).



> Originally an entry for div's challenge she's got goin' right now, but I didn't think it was a hundred percent ready at the time. 'Two x Two' came and I kept this on the backburner since I've also got Risky Business goin'...
> 
> But while div finishes up her next chapter, I figured I should look through some old stuff and see if there's anything worth finishing or editing majorly. And so I decided to finish this, the "original" 'Two x Two'.
> 
> Course it ain't an entry. It's just a lil' bit of a gift for div coz she's fantastic and is a million times better at this writing thing than me (yes, it's true. You're readin' this and sayin' "SHUT UP TWELVE YOU'RE GREAT" but let's be real-).
> 
> Just for fun and coz I've always thought Rocket and Hiro together would be a hilarious thing.
> 
> FINAL NOTE FOR NOW: I set BH6 in the MCU just because I needed that to make sense. Post 'Age of Ultron' coz that's the thing Stark's got these losers posted over in Fransokyo for.
> 
> More notes at the end.

_**They Say We Are What We Are (AKA: Rooming)** _

It seems that for these two, life doesn’t ever step on the brakes once in a while. It’s a nonstop festival of heroics, insanity, frustration, and occasional emotional problems on one side of the fence.

… Wait, wait. Actually, not just those two. This isn’t exclusive to just the two mechanical, robotic, technological geniuses who are giving one another smug looks, arms crossed tightly across their chest, with a tree looming over the two of them.

This is about four people altogether.

“Lemme say this again,” comes the sharp voice from the snout of a (totally not) raccoon, “we don’t wanna be here any longer than we gotta. Stupid crap that Quill brings us down here **_again_** and Stark's immediately got us posted around the frickin' globe. Room smells like foul humie and… am I smellin’ rubber?”

That’s Rocket.

“Believe me, I don’t really want you guys here either. Especially since one of you’s a tree and the other’s a raccoon.” Of course Hiro, fourteen years old and just about as smart as the raccoon standing in front of him, doesn’t mean this in a rude way.

But Groot, the tree with ridiculously good will and a heart of pure gold, still grunts. “I **_am_** Groot,” he grumbles to the boy.

Hiro’s mouth falls slightly agape as he stares at the tree for a moment. “Okay, look, just-” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t one hundred percent understand why you guys have to stay here, but-”

“Ask Starch. He-”

“I am Groot.”

“Right. _**Stark**_ ,” Rocket corrects himself snidely, “said he wanted us here for precaution. Dunno what ya Earthers had that put all’a yas in such a tizzy. Ultron thing?” Hiro shrugs. “Guess it didn’t make it this far. But he’s got a guilt trip from some American beauty boy or somethin’ like that.” Rocket shrugs and brushes a finger across his nose. “Wants us around in case somethin’ tries to pull the rug from under ya dumb guys’ feet. He thought he saw a dumb drone’a the bastard hit up this lil’ spot’a yours. So me ‘n’ Groot are here to keep things in order if need be. Plus ya got parts and I got the brain to fix stuff up with ‘em.” The raccoon shows his teeth, and Hiro is under the impression Rocket’s about to bite for a split second. He takes a tiny step back but relaxes when the raccoon doesn’t fly up and sink his teeth into Hiro’s skin.

That’s just Rocket’s smile. “So, where we gon’ be sleepin’?”

“Uh, well, I only have one room in here aside from my aunt’s.” He scratches his head awkwardly as he goes on, “And she’s out of town for now. But I don’t really want, uh…” Hiro gestures to Groot and Rocket respectively as he says, “... bark and fur in it.” Rocket rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.  “But I figured you guys could sleep in my room? I have a spare bed.”

The raccoon’s negative attitude diminishes instantly, the idea of a spare bed, although in Hiro’s room, seeming a lot better than sleeping somewhere else. “Great. But what ‘bout food?” The raccoon’s eyes shine at the mentioning of the word. “Saw some stuff downstairs and lemme tell ya, I really could go for whatever that powdery lookin’ thing is. Got jelly in it?”

“I am Groot,” Groot says with a smile while flicking Rocket in the head.

“Shaddup. I **_ain’t_** fat.” Rocket elbows Groot in the knee. “Ya just jealous I-”

“Great, fantastic!” Hiro interrupts with two thumbs pointing toward his bedroom. “I’ve got school tomorrow morning and I’d rather not be kept up by two complete strangers/idiots.”

_**On Bad Behavior But I Do It In The Best Way (AKA: Ransacked)** _

The cascading sound of a symphony of crashes, clangs, and yells suddenly jolts Hiro out of his mostly comfortable sleep. He gapes around the room in shock, expecting a certain balloon man to be out and walking around for no real reason, a shelf knocked off of the wall by Baymax’s massive, somewhat clumsy form. Or maybe the medical robot had kicked a box of spare pieces for the fourteen-year-old genius’ robotic works over by accident.

It’s neither. Baymax is still deflated in his storage crate and Hiro’s room is mostly intact.

That crashing came from downstairs. And he thinks a certain ringed tail has something to do with it.

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open comes followed shortly by the sound of scurrying across the wooden floor.

The sound of nails across wooden floorboards confirms it. Rocket's up to something, and Hiro has no idea what it is. He rises out of his (Tadashi’s former) bed nervously and moves the white panel door aside slowly and pokes his head out. Oh, of course he’s right.

 _Crunch_ _crunch_ _crunch_. Rocket sits on the bed, **_Hiro's_   _bed_** , legs tucked tightly underneath of his tiny body, a remote for his old television in his clawed hand. And his mouth is stuffed full of… what’s in his hand? Potato chips?

Rocket turns to Hiro with a raised eyebrow. “‘Sup, kid?” he asks nonchalantly stuffing another handful of the salty delicacies into his mouth. "Good grub ya got."

“Why are you eating my chips?!” Hiro, with the natural speed and reflexes Baymax doesn’t possess when he’s a puffy marshmallow, pulls the bag away from the raccoon’s grimy hands with one quick swipe.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Since when were those yours exclusively, food monger?!” Rocket demands with a mouth full of salty goodness, making grabby hands as he leans forward to grab at the yellow bag.

Hiro pulls the chip bag back and stands his ground. “Because I live here? **_This is my house_**?” Hiro says with a dramatic gesture toward the open door behind him, and-oh no.

 ** _There’s an entire trail of yellow, salty chips leading to the bed_**.

“ ** _So_**?” Rocket pulls out a custard from seemingly out of nowhere and stuffs takes an enormous bite. “Got hungry.”

“That doesn’t give you the-there’s chips all over the-YOU’RE EATING A-”

“I am Groot.”

The arguing duo turn their heads toward the sound of the ‘I am Groot’ in unison. The tree is sitting against the wall, vines planted deep and holding him in place, with a tired, grumpy glare in Rocket’s direction.

“Oh, shuddup. Don’t resort to frickin’ insultin’ me.”

“I am Groot!”

“Wasn’t a bad idea! You’re just takin’ his side coz he’s the one with the angry face!”

“Okay, look, stop,” Hiro says, trying to calm the obnoxious banter that he can only understand half of. “I just…” Rocket waves his hand for Hiro to hurry up and spit out whatever words he’s got left.

“You said you know how to use parts and such, right?”

Rocket nods up and down.

“If you, y’know, _**don’t ransack my kitchen again**_ , do you wanna possibly, maybe head to my robotics-”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rocket says through a mouthful of cream and donut. “Won’t happen again!”

“I am Groot.”

 _It_ _better_ _not_ , is what Groot had said before his head slumped onto his shoulder and he snored himself back to sleep.

_**The Guard Dog (AKA: The Balloon)** _

So Hiro’s “Lab” is basically heaven on Earth (this metaphor works for once) for Rocket. Spare parts and technology along with blueprints everywhere for machines and parts just begging to be built all in the safety of Hiro’s unused garage behind his house. Beautiful. Everything for a mechanical genius to nerd out over, everything the raccoon needs to be satisfied for the day. Parts, parts, and more parts.

Perfect.

The next day, Rocket helps himself to working with some of the junk in Hiro’s drawers while Groot watches carefully from over his shoulder. At around what the Terran clock reads as ‘12’, the massive door slides open and Hiro stands there, now in normal clothes for the day. In his hand is a case, at least three feet long, held by a handle that creaks slightly as he strides in.

“Please tell me you guys didn’t break anything.” Rocket snorts at that. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that,” Rocket says, shooing Hiro’s grabby hand away. “That’s a bomb.”

“A **_bomb_**?!”

“Yep.”

“And you leave-”

“I’m jokin’, kid,” Rocket says, turning to the boy with raised arms and an eyeroll. “Chill. Just the _**start**_ of a bomb, the casing.” Hiro gives an exasperated sigh at the raccoon’s information. “What’s in the case?” Rocket asks, gesturing toward it with a slight nod.

The look on Hiro’s face brightens slightly as he“It’s-” There’s the sound of something ringing in the air. Hiro pulls out a device Rocket’s never seen before from his pants pocket. “Oh, crap. I’ll be right back. **_Please_** don’t break anything while I’m gone in my house for two seconds.”

Groot waves and gives an “I am Groot” along with a smile.

“Stupid kid,” the raccoon mutters under his breath as he twists the top off of the slim, metal casing and slips the explosive component inside.

Groot rolls his eyes. “I am Groot,” he demands as he pulls the metal case Hiro had dropped in front of himself to the side.

“I am nice, ya blasted-ow! Ow!” In the midst of listening to Groot insist he needed to “be nicer”, Rocket’s managed to pinch his finger as he sealed the casing shut. “Pinched my d’ast finger,” the raccoon mutters, sucking on it like an infantile raccoon would. “Sheesh. Worst ever.”

“I am G-?”

Suddenly, the case flips open and the sound of something inflating fills the room. Rocket’s still inspecting his finger closer, hardly noticing the commotion behind him up until the black, massive, round shadow is cast over him. He turns around, and his mouth falls agape at the sight.

“Greetings,” it speaks, black eyes blinking, “I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion.” It turns to Groot, head tilted slightly. “Greetings. I am Baymax.”

Groot smiles at the robot widely, obviously enthralled at the sight of this puffy, white, medical assistant. “I am Groot!” he tells it excitedly.

“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Groot,” the robot speaks. “However, you were not the one who requested my assistance.”

“What the hell is-”

Baymax’s head twists in Rocket’s direction. “You activated me, procyon lotor, when you said ‘ow’.” Procyon lotor? Rocket gives a confused look at the words.

“No I didn’t,” Rocket retorts snidely.

“I activate upon hearing the word ‘ow’. You did say it, did you not…” Baymax hesitates before he asks, “... Groot’s friend?”

Rocket blinks in surprise. He’s dealt with med-bot’s before, but this one’s far more advanced than anything he’s seen. “Rocket. And yeah, pinched myself, but-”

The robot interrupts Rocket. “On a scale from one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” Ten faces suddenly light up on the robot’s puffy stomach, their plain expressions ranging from ‘okay’ to ‘the worst pain in the galaxy’, colored from yellow to orange to a deep red.

Rocket rolls his eyes. “Just nicked my finger. I’m fine.”

“Initiating scan.” Baymax stares blankly at Rocket before his eyes flash. Rocket scrambles backward slightly, but the robot’s gaze still follows. “A scan of your physical body indicates that you received a wound from excessive pressure upon your finger. Minor and in no real need of medical attention.”

“Yep,” Rocket folds his arms across his chest and nods. “Toldja.”

“However, my scan indicates that you seem to be under quite a bit of stress and are feeling confused.”

Rocket blinks. “What? How the-”

“You are quite distressed. You are homesick.” Baymax opens his arms wide and slowly steps toward Rocket with awkwardly short legs. “Hugging, as my database reads, is a form of compassion that can make one feel much better when enduring difficult times. Are you enduring difficult times Rocket?”  
“Uh, Baymax, is it?” Rocket’s on his feet now, hands stretched outward. “Look, I-I don’t wanna h-”

 _Squish_. The raccoon is suddenly pressed up against Baymax’s rubber body, face pressed deep into the balloon’s side. “There there,” the robot speaks as he pats Rocket’s head. “Your stress levels will deplete with time. Your friends still care for you.”

And that’s when the panic started...

* * *

 

“Sorry about that,” Hiro says as he strides in through the door with a brown, sealed box in hand. “Just had a thing to get from Honey. You’d seriously be impressed with her purse, Rocket.” He knocks on the box with one hand to indicate this purse is what’s within. “Wants me to do some-oh my gosh.”

Baymax stands at the other side of the room looking as plain as ever. Aside from the five holes in his arms that he’s nursing with Hiro’s roll of tape, he still looks to be in puffy, tip-top shape. But on the other side of the room is a tree holding down a screeching, angry raccoon.

“Who the hell d’ya think ya are?! Huggin’ me without me sayin’ ya could. I’ll rip ya t’ shreds, ya dumb balloon!”

Groot purses his lips and gives Hiro a look of distress. “I am Groot!” he cries in desperation, pulling Rocket in tighter and trying to keep him from wiggling out and teaching Baymax a lesson his database does not need to understand.

Hiro sighs, and looks up to the ceiling, and begs, “What did I do to deserve **_this_**?”

_**The Watcher (AKA: Observation)** _

Groot’s a quiet one when he wants to be. And with Rocket being the only one who can understand him, he only really does talk to the raccoon. So when Rocket’s asleep, clinging to his shoulder like quite the literal raccoon, in the garage while Hiro works and Baymax recharges in his case. the tree watches in curiosity as the boy works at his desk.

Hiro slides his chair from one side of the desk to the other, reading prints one second and cranking things together another. It’s definitely not this purse that he’d mentioned before he’d attempted to calm down a certain raccoon going ballistic, but something else. It’s metal, but Groot can’t be too sure what it is. Rocket would be capable of identifying it with just a mere glance. And even then, it might take Rocket a moment to figure out what the bit of technology is since Terra’s such a foreign place to the raccoon.

Groot’s only seen one other person work with such speed and precise movements, and he’s clinged to his arm at this moment. It’s almost as if Hiro is Rocket in the form of a human being. Even Hiro’s moods and personality have a subtle Rocket-ness to them in the flora colossus’ mind.

Groot really does enjoy Hiro.

“Uh, tree? Groot?”

Groot pulls himself together, seemingly embarassed from zoning out and staring at Hiro. “Hmm?”

“You guys okay here for tonight?” Hiro asks groggily. “He looks fast asleep with no intention of getting up.”

Groot looks to the raccoon on his shoulder, noting the drool when Rocket wipes his lip and pulls closer toward onto Groot’s shoulder. The plant smiles and gives a nod to Hiro. “I am Groot.” _I doubt it_.

Hiro, despite not knowing Groot’s true words, nods in agreement. “Yeah. Well, I’m heading back home. I’ll come back by tomorrow around noon again, alright? And I’ll be sure to leave Baymax at home, okay?”

Groot watched diligently while the boy strode away before looking back to his friend asleep on his shoulder.

**_We Could Be Immortals (AKA: Music)_ **

“The hell is iJams?”

“It’s a music program, Rocket. Why?”

“Coz it sounds like the name of some sorta jelly or some crap.” A click, and a second later, Rocket muses, “This looks like some outdated Terran tech. Why’s it so clunky lookin’?”

Hiro gives an annoyed huff and strides over to the side of the chair where Rocket sits. “Why are you even using the computer?” It’s quite the sight, really, since the chair doesn’t give Rocket the leverage he needs to properly reach the mouse and keyboard. He’s leaning forward on his knees, and the chances of him falling off since he’s at the very edge of the leather is five out of ten.

“Coz I do what I want.” Rocket clicks around aimlessly, playing a song for five seconds before skipping to another. Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Can you settle on a song?” Hiro begs.

“Relax, humie,” Rocket says, shoving himself back into the seat and kicking his legs out. No chance of falling out now. Darn. “Just checkin’ stuff out. If ya wanna play somethin’ than do it.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, shoves the leather rolling seat away, and snickers at Rocket’s, “Hey! Rude!” while he clicks a track and waits for it to start up.

Rocket gives a distasteful look at the looping sound of what he deems to be a flute playing wildly. “Yeesh. This is different.”

_They say we are what we are_

“I quite enjoy this song,” comes the voice of Baymax, with his finger raised in the air. “It is, as Hiro has said, a jam that is suitable for an action montage.”

_But we don’t have to be_

“Psh. Nerd,” Rocket mumbles.

But the song stays stuck in his head and he ends up humming it now and then for the rest of the night.

_**I’m Still Comparing My Past To My Future (AKA: How It’s Made)** _

“Careful, kid,” Rocket says whilst adjusting the goggles that don’t fit on his face properly. “Just don’t cross those wires, alright?”

“I’m being careful about it, Rocket. Don’t panic.” Hiro pulls the wire up to the desired place, careful not to cross over the green one Rocket warned him about. “Solder it.”

Rocket does so a second later. “Woo. Didn’t get us killed.” The raccoon pulls the protective eyewear off of his face, tossing the round, metal bomb in hand around, testing the weight. “That’s how ya make a simple one. EMPs ain’t a thing to mess ‘round with too much.”

Hiro looks at the metal object in the raccoon’s hand with curiosity. “Well, duh. Those things are nuts.”

Rocket scrunches his nose up and nods. “Yeah. Hate ‘em. Don’t like what they do to me when they hit.”

Hiro blinks. “Whaddaya mean? Don’t you just get knocked down and disoriented for a bit?”

“It ain’t that simple, kid,” Rocket tells Hiro, setting the example they’d just made out of scraps on the table carefully. “More or less real painful for me since I’m…” Rocket trails off. “It’s nuttin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Hiro blinks before he takes the EMP off the table. “Is this dangerous to have around you, Rocket? I don’t want it accidentally going off and hurting you or worse.”

Rocket gives a surprised look. “Really? Heh. Barely know each other. And that thing's dangerous 'round **_anyone_** , kid.”

“Well, if it’s gonna mess you up I don’t want it around you.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“If you don’t mind me asking, since we _**are**_ working together, where are you from?”

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout that.”

“But it’s just-”

Rocket snarls. “Listen, moron. I said I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, so we ain’t gonna talk ‘bout it,” he says with a voice full of pained, angry venom. “Get me a couple’a beers and I’ll start spillin’ crap like no tomorrow. But sober I ain’t gonna let out a word, ya got that?”

Hiro frowns slightly, not out of disappointment but out of pity.

Rocket’s haunted and Hiro knows all too well what that’s like.

_**The (Second) Watcher (AKA: Understanding)** _

Hiro had told him to just wait with Rocket in silence, and that was seemingly how it was going to be until Hiro returned to the garage after checking up on Groot, who was still focusing on Netflix and popcorn. Silent. Not awkward, but somewhat peaceful, the only sound being the light humming coming from the tiny raccoon kneeling on the floor, twisting something to the edge of a massive rifle he’d just built from scraps of Baymax’s first version of power armor.

And Baymax is just in _**awe**_ of it.

 _Hairy_ _baby_ is what he thinks of Rocket at first glance. He’s in awe of the raccoon’s animal-like qualities since he is, well, a raccoon. There's no denying that simple fact. The robot naively wants to reach out and pat him on the head, but he’d learned the consequences of that already. See, that’s the thing it took Baymax a moment to understand. Until he really takes in the quick hands, the humming, the swishing of his tail to the melody of that song Hiro played earlier in the week, Baymax looked at Rocket and thought he was a simple animal with a voice.

But he is a person.

When he’d scanned Rocket’s body for wounds and his emotional state of mind, Baymax picked up on the amount of metal within the raccoon’s body, specifically the bits that stick out of his back quite a bit. It’s unnatural for Rocket to exist in the sense that he is a walking, talking, smart-mouthed raccoon with an affinity for guns.

Rocket is haunted.

Rocket is unlike anything anyone’s ever seen.

Rocket reminds Baymax of Hiro so much it’s **_uncanny_**.

“Hairy friend, I wish to inform you that I did not mean any harm in hugging you,” Baymax says matter-of-factly. This is the first sentence Baymax has said directly and exclusively to Rocket. He raises his puffy finger upward and begins to explain, "It is simply a manner in which-"

“Yeah?” Rocket says over his shoulder. “Cool. Don’t care. Even if ya is some sorta medical assistant ya don’t just go off huggin’ people without their permission.”

“It is in my programming to assist anyone in need of medical attention, whether it be physical care or assisting in keeping their morale and mood, as Hiro has said, out of the gutter.”

The raccoon slows his pace of working on his weapon, seemingly thinking for a moment, before he picks back up. “Well, that’s fantastic. Who gave ya that programmin’, huh? Coz it sure as hell's a lil' bit invading."

“Tadashi.”

“Tadashi?” Rocket snorts. “Who’s that? Some sorta magician?" The raccoon scoffs. "Tch. Stupid."

“Tadashi is Hiro’s brother."

Rocket's ear flicks. "Brother? The hell's he at?"

The robot continues, "Tadashi was lost in a fire.”

Silence again, this time the humming from Rocket’s throat stops as well. Too much information? Yeah, too much information.

“Oh,” the raccoon stutters, clearing his throat. “That, uh, that’s bad.” And he continues to bury himself in his work, seemingly discomforted.

While the raccoon works, Baymax unknowingly scans Rocket again.

Regret. Guilt. Frustration. A tiny bit of sadness. Compassion.

All that underneath quiet muttering, fluffy brown fur, and flicking ears until Hiro enters the garage and tells the boys it’s time to head back to his home.

_**It Might Be Your Wound But They’re My Sutures (AKA: Repair)** _

“This is stupid, Groot. Hiro and Balloon-Boy got stuff to do with their team of numbnuts superheroes and we’re stuck here watchin’ frickin’ Giant Robots Turn Into Cars and Fight Each Other.” A handful of popcorn, covered and butter and some salt, finds its way between Rocket’s sharp mandibles. “Unfair.”

Groot, who is sitting next to Rocket and thoroughly enjoying the sight of a yellow, thirty foot tall robot tearing the tail of a scorpion ‘bot, excitedly tells Rocket, “I am Groot!”

“Don’t tell me t’ shuddup!” Rocket says through buttery lips. “I **_hate_** this crap.”

“I am Groot,” the tree grins.

“Yeah, and I love food but I’d rather be out fightin’ somethin’, gettin’ my fur fringed, gettin’ dirty ‘nd…” Rocket trails off. “Yeah, you’re right. Food’s good, too.” More popcorn and a sip from what Hiro calls “his Pepsi”. “Ya want some?”

Groot shakes his head.

“Your loss.” Another sip straight from the massive bottle. “Still, seems like everything’s pretty chill here on Earth. Should prob’bly call Stark and see when he wants us to meet up and get the hell outta here. I miss goin’ to bars and breakin’ stuff.”

Groot shrugs. “I am Groot,” he offers in hopes Rocket won’t rush them out of Hiro’s home as soon as he gets the signal that it’s clear to do so.

Rocket gives a vindictive sigh. “Yeah, Hiro’s okay. Pretty chill kid. Kinda feel bad for ‘im. Ya know that-”

Suddenly, the sound of the door to Hiro’s room banging against the wall violently makes both of the aliens jump, and Hiro appears a moment later, stained with dirt on his face, his purple armor cracked and worn looking. There’s a panicked look in his eyes, switching from Groot to Rocket to the floor to-what’s he seen?  
“Th-There it is,” he stutters, grabbing up a gauze-like roll before running out of the room.

“Hiro? Kid?!” Rocket calls out.

“No time to explain, Rocket!”

Rocket grinds his teeth. There’s no way he’s taking no for an answer.

* * *

 

Rocket strides into Hiro’s makeshift workshop quietly after motioning for Groot to wait. Because Hiro looks panicked, scared even, and Rocket can’t stand the idea of Hiro in a panic for whatever reason.

“Blowtorch, blowtorch, blow-”

Why does Hiro need a blowtorch? It doesn’t seem-oh.

Baymax’s upper body is relieved of the armor, but he sits slumped, somewhat deflated, and almost dead-looking against the wall. Now this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if there wasn’t an enormous shred of metal stuck inside of him.

And apparently, based off of the sparking, something’s going to go haywire and severely ruin one of Baymax’s components. Or much, much worse.

Rocket almost says, “Should’a brought us with ya” but doesn’t for the sake of Hiro. “Hiro, what happened?”

“B-Baymax took a hit for me. Explosive. Wasn’t the cause of the sh-shrapnel in him. That came after his armor got blown to bits.” Hiro’s sweating, his mouth clenched tightly, as he searches almost aimlessly for a blowtorch for whatever reason. “I need to get it out. It’s-It’s in his battery component. He-He’s gonna lose it if-if-if I don’t get the vinyl melted over that hole in his side and-and-rewire the-the-”

“Hiro, slow down,” Rocket says easily, putting his hands out to ease the boy down. “Just take off your armor. I’ll pull the crap outta Baymax. I-”

“No.”

Rocket blinks. “Come again?”

“I can do it,” Hiro says forcefully. “He’s _**my**_ friend, Rocket.”

“We gotta go about this a step at a time, man. Just lemme take the shrapnel out and do the wiring. You find the blowtorch a-”

“No!”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because you don’t like him! How do I know you’re not gonna just push it in further, huh? How do I know you’re not just gonna take him away from me like that?”

“Coz I know what that’s like, ya heathen,” Rocket spits bitterly.

It becomes so silent you can hear eighteen pins drop. The two stare at one another with completely different looks. Hiro’s is scared, almost teary-eyed, whimpery. Rocket’s is unwavering, angry, frustrated, upset.

Two completely different sides to very similar coins.

“Shut your selfish, crybaby mouth and find the damn blowtorch, kid,” Rocket says while he strides over to Baymax and inspects the metal pieces in Baymax’s side. “G-Groot? Help me out, bud.” Rocket should’ve thought someone with gloves should rip the metal out of Baymax’s internal core, but Groot’s vines did the trick just vine.

“After this, I’m callin’ Quill, ya got me?"

Hiro doesn’t respond with words. But a grunt of agreement is heard.

A second later, Rocket’s got an iron in hand with solder from he and Hiro’s earlier project and immediately gets to work.

And the entire time, he kept the days without Groot in mind.

**_Your Fever Dreams (AKA: Nightmares)_ **

Two sit in the house, one in a compartment to recharge his newly wired battery, the other watching another sequel to the Cars That Transform movies (Groot learns the movies are called Transformers without Rocket there to complain) while the other two sit out in the garage, slowly but surely fixing up and reworking Baymax’s armor.

“Hm hm hm hm bottom half of the hm hm hm hm.” Rocket doesn’t know every word to the song, but the melody plays again and again and again on the playlist Hiro had turned on repeat while he torches the black metal plating together for Baymax’s midsection. Not a bad playlist, really. Rocket likes the song that plays now and the one about the ‘seven nation army’ and ‘teenagers scaring the living shit out of me’. Even on repeat the songs don’t get old.

“I try to picture me withoutcha blah blah blah.” He grins in satisfaction at his finished work, scratching at an itch that was sitting on the back of his head for the longest of times. “Hiro, come over here. Got the platin’ for his middle done,” Rocket says over his shoulder.

No response. Just the song.

“Hiro?”

Rocket turns to the desk and sees the boy in his navy blue hoodie slumped over the desk tiredly, head resting in his arms and snoring loudly. The raccoon scoffs, shakes his head, and strides over slowly and checks the clock that rests nearby. 11:41. Tiring day of heroics for the two, but did Hiro really clonk out at 11:41? Yeesh.

“Kid looks uncomfortable,” Rocket notes to himself. He shrugs it off and takes a look at the work at what Hiro’s accomplished so far with Baymax’s bright red chest plate.

Cracks are sealed, although still in need of some reworking on the red paint. Nothing they can’t finish tomorrow morning together. Of course Rocket’s tired himself, but he can’t imagine how Hiro’s feeling. Just got off stopping some robbery or whatever, Baymax taking a hit. It's something Rocket can hardly imagine.

That’s a lie, really. Rocket _**knows**_ the feeling of stressing over your friend all too well.

“Hiro? Hey, buddy,” the raccoon nudges the boy slightly with his fist. “Wake up. Ya clonked out workin’ on Baymax’s stuff and-”

“‘Dashi, stop,” he mumbles in a slurred manner.

Rocket blinks, draws his hand away and waits a few seconds. “Hiro? Hey, we-”

“Tadashi, no!”

Panic strikes Hiro suddenly, and he sits up, eyes wide, panting wildly. “T-T-T-” He sees Rocket a second later, and almost immediately tries to regain his composure, ruffling his hair out of embarrassment and starting to say, “H-Hey, Rocket. I-I-I didn’t mean to doze-”

“Hiro, shuddup a sec.” Rocket doesn’t say it in a spiteful, bitter manner. He says it with compassion, almost like the two have been best friends for years.

Hiro does so and waits for Rocket to talk.

“Ya have nightmares?”

Hiro is silent.

“‘Bout your brother? Coz I get ‘em too.”

The boy swallows hard, folds his arms across his chest nervously. “Not often, Rocket. Just now and again. Always a memory, not really a nightmare.”

Rocket nods in understanding. “Look, I-I’m sorry ‘bout yellin’ earlier. And I’m sorry ‘bout Tadashi. I know damn well what it’s like to lose people ya need ‘nd all that.”

“Y-Yeah,” Hiro says. “Let’s just, y’know, keep this between us?”

Rocket nods. “Yeah.”

“Should we head inside? It’s cold out here.”

Rocket nods. “Yeah. Me ‘n’ Groot got two more days here ‘til Quill gets us and I don’t wanna spend ‘em buttin' heads with ya. But I do wanna kick your skinny ass at that video game ya showed me with the icy guy and the Reptile dude.”

Hiro smiles snidely at that. “You mean Mortal Kombat?”

“Yeah, that one.” A brief silence. “Wanna make a bet?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I win, ya lemme eat all the donuts your aunt made I want. You win, I’ll promise not to ransack your kitchen again and I’ll apologize to your dumb cat for scarin’ it. Right?”

The boy grins, outstretches his hand, and says confidently, “You’re dead meat, idiot.”

The raccoon shakes Hiro’s hand firmly, and gives a sly grin. “In your dreams, loser.”

A beat of silence as they both stride toward the house tiredly before, "Wait, **_when'd_** you scare my cat?"

**_Watchers (AKA: Sleep)_ **

It’s quiet, too quiet. But that’s to be expected when a good movie’s on.

Groot can be a quiet one when he wants to, and Hiro insisted Baymax didn’t make a sound while the four of them squeeze onto the couch in the main room and had a movie marathon in celebration of Rocket and Groot leaving the following day. Of course it was less of a celebration and more of a Going Away Party. Hiro wasn’t all too excited to have Rocket and Groot leave, despite them (well, mostly Rocket) being a bit of a pain to him over the course of the week. Stark’s precaution was really more out of nervous paranoia because absolutely nothing sounded that required their attention.

They’d wasted their time.

Nonetheless, it was an okay at best time for Rocket and Groot. And despite Rocket and Hiro being squished in the middle with Baymax and Groot at the ends of the couch, everyone’s in pleasant spirits.

Neither of the two squished between their ridiculously polite friends complained. It wasn’t a terrible position to be in. Baymax is a ridiculously huggable balloon and Rocket’s used to brushing up against Groot’s bark. Nothing to complain about except the moment that Groot’s bowl of chips runs dry.

So of course, halfway through an eighties movie with Tom Cruise in the lead role, the sound of snoring fills the room. Not from one, but two organic beings in the middle of the couch.

Groot looks over and has to stifle at laugh. Hiro’s sitting up, passed out and snoring up a storm, while Rocket’s flopped over on his lap. Baymax turns his head toward the sight as well, and gives Groot a look.

“It appears they are asleep.”

Groot nods. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

A whirring sound. “Rocket’s heart rate is stable. Perhaps he has finally learned how to relax.”

Groot grunts in agreement.

“He is a feisty, hairy baby.”

Groot gives Baymax a confused, “I am Groot?”

“You are quite lucky to have a friend like Rocket,” the robot muses while patting Rocket on the head. The raccoon stiffens slightly but relaxes a moment later. “He is so much like Hiro that I have come to enjoy his company quite a bit. We will miss you both.

Groot smiles widely at that, nods up and down, and says, “I am Groot.”

_And we you, friend._

**Author's Note:**

> Couple'a dumb references for me to point out:
> 
> \- iJams - The song's Immortals. Duh. Other songs mentioned later on are Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes and Teenagers by My Chemical Romance.  
> \- Eighties movie starring Tom Cruise - Risky Business. Shameless plug.  
> \- Transforming Car Movies - Transformers. Yikes. Hate the movies hardcore. Groot loves 'em apparently.
> 
> I had many more "sections" of this planned but cut 'em out for varying reasons. Course this is just for stupidity and because I remember div wanted some sort of BH6 and GotG crossover.
> 
> And I did my best with it, I think.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. 
> 
> AAAAANd of course I gotta promote the shit outta Risky Business. Me and divisonten got the greatest story ever goin' where we alternate writing the chapters between Rocket and Gamora's perspectives. Odd chapters are me, even are her, as Rocket and Gamora respectively. And although it's labeled as "Rocket/Gamora", there's more to it than what it seems. Fair bit of action, some stupid drama, medical shit, and, of course, unoduotrey.


End file.
